


Hogwarts 365 Challenge

by Evandar



Series: Harry Potter Drabbles [10]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Academics won't let you be gay (for the bad guy), Adultery, Consensual Underage Relationship, Don't copy to another site, Dubcon Kissing, Established Relationship, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Implied Relationships, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Rare Pairings, Secret Relationship, Trans Ginny Weasley, Trans Male Character, Underage Harry Potter, Underage Sirius Black, Unreliable Narrator, Welsh Salazar Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:37:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: A collection of ficlets, all 365 words long. Slash and femslash pairings - most of them rare and incredibly random.





	1. The Sword of Gryffindor - Salazar/Godric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Godric isn't entirely sure what to do with his new Goblin-made sword.
> 
> Prompt 24 - Godric/Salazar & "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn" & bonus: handcuffs/shackles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Godric is based on Tyrion Lannister and my Salazar is Welsh.

“…What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

Godric paused in his ranting to glare at his lover, but if Salazar noticed then he gave no indication of it. He was too busy looking over the latest plans for the school, making the occasional mark with his quill. There was a smudge of ink on his cheek and Godric was tempted to go over to him and clamber onto his lap to lick it off before he remembered that he was supposed to be angry with Salazar’s apparent disinterest.

“It’s a sword,” he said. “They can’t think I’m actually going to use it.”

“Why not?” Salazar asked. “ _They_ use swords. Perhaps they do not see your height as the same disadvantage you do.”

“That thing is the same size as me!” Godric snapped back. “I can barely lift it!”

Salazar finally looked up, green eyes bright with amusement, and lowered his quill. He stood and approached, kneeling before Godric so that they were of a height. “Anwylyd,” he said, resting his hands on Godric’s shoulders, “if it so offends you then take action. You know how much pride the Goblins place in their treasures.” Salazar’s smile when he was plotting something was a thing of true beauty. “They forgot to extract an oath from you to bequeath it back to them. If you’re truly as angry as you say you are, deny them that.”

Godric raised his eyebrows. “You want me to have children?” he asked, disbelief colouring his tone.

Salazar snorted. “Not at all,” he replied. “Let our brothers continue our lines, for you are mine as I am yours. What I’m suggesting is that you bequeath the sword to the school to aid in its defence. Goblin-made weapons are valuable assets and highly sought after.”

Never mind that ‘the school’ was little more than a pipe dream at the moment, the idea had merit. Godric nodded and leaned forward to press a kiss to Salazar’s lips. Salazar kissed back briefly, before standing. “Now come,” he said, “and look at these plans like you’re supposed to before I shackle you to the desk, my Lord Gryffindor.”


	2. Regrets - Sirius Black/Antonin Dolohov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus' wedding preparations bring a question to Harry's mind, but there are some things he doesn't really want to know the answer to.
> 
> Prompt 25 - [Wedding picture](https://revolutionarypaideia.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/men-holding-hands.jpg%3Fw%3D620) & Antonin Dolohov

“Have you ever thought about getting married?”

Sirius snorted at the question and – at first – didn’t answer. He kept watching Mrs Weasley lecture Remus on the vital importance of the correct flower arrangements for the table centrepieces, and he frowned, chewing his lip. 

“Once,” he said after a while. “You don’t want to know.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Come on, Sirius. Tell me. Take your best shot.”

Sirius shook his head. “I was proposed to twice,” he said. “The first time, I said ‘hell no’ and that was that. The second time…fuck, this is awkward. You really want to know?”

Harry just nodded. All this fuss over Remus’ impending wedding had brought it up and he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. He’d seen pictures of his godfather as a young man and, while he was still handsome, he’d been _gorgeous_ before Azkaban. And yet…he hadn’t ever mentioned anyone. 

“Antonin Dolohov,” Sirius said.

Harry choked. “The Death Eater? Are you…what? How?”

Sirius nodded. “We met after I finished school. Had a bit of a whirlwind romance while I was in Auror training and he was working for Gringotts.” He flashed Harry a crooked smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Lots of sex.”

Harry wrinkled his nose and shoved his godfather in the arm. “What happened?”

“We split up. We had a conflict of interest – pretty obvious one, really. He was a Death Eater and I wasn’t. In the end I had the choice of him or the Order – your parents, Remus, Frank and Alice.” Sirius sighed and looked away again, in Remus’ direction but not, Harry thought, at him. There was something sad and distant in Sirius’ eyes, and Harry rested his head against Sirius’ shoulder in a silent apology. He shouldn’t have asked, and Sirius had been right about him not wanting to know. Dolohov had died horribly, caught between curses from Snape and Bill Weasley. He’d been barely recognisable when they were done, but it had been Sirius who identified him after the battle.

“It wasn’t as easy as it should have been,” Sirius admitted quietly. “Saying goodbye to him was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”


	3. Never-Ending Road - Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape goes away to a potions conference and Harry wonders how Neville copes with his own long-distance relationship.
> 
> Prompt #28 - "I put my trust in a never-ending road that leads to my door" & Neville Longbottom & Whispered Words

“How do you do it?”

Neville didn’t so much as pause in his weeding. The Venomous Tentacula was already quivering in its pot, waiting for him to let his guard down so that it could strike. He couldn’t let Harry distract him as the other man was trying (if not meaning) to.

“I mean, Blaise is away so often. Flitting off to who knows where to do who knows what with who knows who.”

“He’s a journalist, he usually spends his time asking leading questions and trying to find dirt on people,” Neville murmured. Any loud noises this close to the plant and he’d end up with a vine full of spikes to the face. Besides, it wasn’t like Harry was listening.

Snape had gone off to a potions conference and Harry had promptly started to go stir crazy. He missed him, he wanted him back, and as Neville was the only person he knew with any experience of long distances getting in the way of relationships, he had started to come to the greenhouses to rant in free periods. Neville loved him dearly, but he was beginning to miss the quiet.

“And even when he is in the country, you’re at Hogwarts. You’ve got classes and marking” – Neville couldn’t quite repress a shudder at the reminder, but soon turned it into a stern glare when the Tentacula shifted meaningfully – “and _lesson planning_.” Harry’s tone spoke of hours of pain and fire whiskey-soothed frustrations.

“I put my trust in a never-ending road that leads to my door,” Neville whispered, and this time it seemed like Harry heard him.

“What the hell does that even mean?” he asked.

“It means that Blaise travels. Not just for work, but because he enjoys it. It’s a part of who he is and I love him for it,” Neville replied, continuing to whisper his words and not sure whether he was trying to soothe Harry or the plant the most. “And because I love him, I trust him to always travel back to me – to make me his destination, no matter where in the world he goes.”

He stepped back slowly and vines relaxed. “Besides,” he said. “Mirror sex.”


	4. Human History - Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank/Irma Pince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The library is a sacred place because of its human history. It’s the memories that are the important thing.
> 
> Prompt 30 - "I'm the great pretender" (SONG PROMPT) & Irma Pince & Dinner at eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring background Draco/Harry, Regulus/Barty, and Lavender/Parvati

She’s the great pretender. She wears her heart like a crown and doesn’t bow under the weight of it, even when she sifts through the charred wreckage of the library she dedicated herself to. She attends dinner in the Great Hall at eight every night, lets herself be seen by the staff and students – a pillar of strength in a time of rebuilding. She is a constant. She is a librarian.

She never lets anyone see her cry.

She keeps her grief over Wilhelmina to the quarters they shared and preserves her memory in carefully collected photos, in diaries (Mina was a firm believer in writing things down), and in old sets of robes decorated with the crest of the Holyhead Harpies.

It’s the memories that are the important thing. How many people could she shock into silence if she admitted it isn’t about the books? Miss Granger, certainly – such a dear, coming in to help almost as often as the House Elves – Minerva, Horace…everyone, in fact, who has stepped through the doors of Hogwarts in the course of Irma’s career (except Mina, of course, because she always looked deeper).

She’ll miss the books that have been lost. Of course she will. But books can be replaced. It’s the _memories_. It’s the carvings left in bookcases and tables ( _RAB+BCJr_ in the window frame by the runes section, inventively scribed in Elder Futhark as if no one else could read it; _LB <3PP 4EVA_ surrounded by hearts and stars in divination) and the shadowed alcoves that have hid furtive looks and swift, blushing kisses since time immemorial. The library is a sacred place because of its _human_ history.

A history gutted by fire, but that sprouts anew.

She pretends not to hear when Draco Malfoy finally gives in to frustrations and pushes Harry Potter up against a table in the Defence section and kisses him breathless, knocking glasses askew and earning himself a love bite on the side of his neck that lasts for a week. Instead, she leaves them to it, and when she spots a small heart emblazoned _DM+HP_ on that very same table, the only person she tells is a picture of Mina.


	5. Biker - Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius brings his bike home; Remus is more distracted by his leathers.
> 
> Prompt 31 - "It pleases you, doesn't it?" & Muggle Actor & Leather

Sirius was standing next to a Muggle motorbike, black and chrome and _fast_ -looking, but that wasn’t why Remus was staring. It was the leather. Sirius was dressed _entirely_ in leather – from his boots to his jacket – with his long hair pulled back into a tail at the back of his neck. It made him look like a Muggle actor.

He shot Remus a wide, dazzling grin and spread out his arms. “What do you think?”

He probably meant the bike, but frankly, that was the last thing on Remus’ mind. The movement had tightened Sirius’ jacket over his chest and arms and the – was that armour? – plating that protected him. He couldn’t answer the question. His mouth had gone suddenly very dry, and his cock was starting to harden in his trousers.

 _Fuck_ but Sirius looked incredible.

He stepped forward, having to focus unnaturally hard on putting one foot in front of the other, and he reached out to _touch_. Silver eyes widened when his fingers brushed over Sirius’ hip instead of the bike, before Sirius’ grin softened into something entirely more predatory and he closed his arms around Remus’ waist, drawing him close.

He was hard in unusual places – protected – and the combination of leather and armour made his movements slightly stiff, but Remus didn’t care. Like this, wrapped in Sirius’ arms, the smell of the leather was waking something primal in the back of his mind. He wanted to bite. Not to infect, but to taste; he wanted to drag Sirius into their flat and drop to his knees and let Sirius fuck his mouth, still wearing his tight leathers so that Remus could drown himself in that glorious scent.

He pressed his face into the curve of Sirius’ neck and inhaled deeply, and a soft, possessive growl rumbled in his chest.

“It pleases you, doesn’t it?” Sirius murmured, his breath hot on Remus’ ear.

In response, Remus pressed his hips forward, pressing his erection hard against Sirius’ thigh and eliciting a breathless laugh from his lover. Gloved hands slid down his back to his arse and back up, slipping under his jumper to rub circles on his skin. Remus snapped.

“Flat. Now.”


	6. Captains - Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Oliver negotiate for training-time on the Quidditch pitch.
> 
> Prompt 32 - "Knight in shining armour" & Katie Bell & Chocolate

“All I’m saying is the pitch is yours. For mornings, at least.”

“My knight in shining armour,” Oliver replies, rolling his eyes. Flint huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, but they both know that he won’t take the offer back. He’s doing it to avoid early morning confrontation with that Malfoy kid who bought his way onto the Slytherin team – apparently mornings are for commoners or some such nonsense, and Flint’s sick of him whining.

“You do know that Katie’s going to kill me,” he continues, drifting closer to the other captain. 

“Who?”

Oliver sighs. “Katie Bell. Chaser. Brown hair. Detests mornings like Snape hates Hufflepuffs.”

“Oh. Her.” Flint never was one for words, but he’s beginning to relax now – getting the hint now that Oliver’s tracing the curve of the muscles in his forearm. “Buy her some chocolate or something to make up for it.”

Oliver wrinkles his nose. “She’ll think I _fancy_ her,” he says, and he can’t quite stop himself from sounding offended. Katie’s a sweet girl, he knows – until she’s been dragged out of bed at five in the morning, at least – but still. “She’s not my type. Wouldn’t be good for teamwork, leading her on like that.”

Flint snorts, but shifts, unfolding his arms to wrap Oliver up in them. He’s taller and stronger than Oliver, and when he’s not trying to smash your head in by sending you careening into the Quidditch stands, he projects a nice, safe air that Oliver just can’t resist. He tilts his head back as Flint pulls him closer, and slides his hands up to grip his hard biceps even as he leans in for the kiss.

Flint’s suggestion of chocolate seems to have been based on something because that’s what he tastes of when Oliver licks eagerly into his mouth. Oliver presses closer, moaning as he chases after that dark, bittersweet flavour, and Flint hums into his mouth. A large hand finds his arse and grips tight, pulling him in as a muscled thigh presses between his own. Oliver rocks forward, slipping his arms up around Flint’s neck for better purchase, and moans.

Leading Katie on would be cruel; he wants Flint.


	7. The Fight Ahead - Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Sprout dispenses some advice.
> 
> Prompt 36 - “The caterpillar does all the work, but the butterfly gets all the publicity.” & Pomona Sprout & Soul

“Well, that’s just the way of it, I’m afraid. The caterpillar does all the work, but the butterfly gets all the publicity.”

Mister Longbottom paused slightly. His hands were covered in mud and scratches, but the Shrivelfig bush looked quite content in its new pot – well planted too, she noted with pride. The boy had talent, alright.

I don’t mind, really,” he said. “Being in the background. I mean, I know I killed part of his soul, and I’m proud of that. I am. And I didn’t do _all_ of the work. There were others too, and…” He sighed and shook his head, breaking off before he could finish the sentence which would prove – once and for all – that he was the life-long caterpillar type.

“But?” she prompted, following him down the bench to his next task. A seed tray full of Bubotuber seedlings, which needed repotting: a delicate task, if you didn’t want them to explode.

“I wish they’d leave him alone,” Longbottom said quietly. “The press. The girls.” A blush rose in his cheeks, highlighting one of the scars left by the Carrows. “He’s miserable.”

“Mister Potter is a hero, I’m afraid. They’ll follow him to the ends of the earth for the rest of his life, regardless of how much he wants anonymity.” She felt for the boy, she really did. Potter was a good lad. A bit brash, a bit too rough around the edges; fairly decent in Herbology, though, and with the kind of mind set that let him sink into her subject without a fuss (albeit no real passion either).

She took a deep breath. “And, you know, it’s something that you’re going to have to learn to live with as well.”

His blush darkened, and she knew she’d guessed right. Longbottom had one hell of a task ahead of him, and she _wasn’t_ talking about the Bubotubers. If he wanted Potter – and it was looking like he did – then he was in for a real fight. 

Good thing he was the caterpillar type, then.

“I know, Professor Sprout,” he said, and he sounded like a warrior instead of a school boy. She smiled proudly. He’d be absolutely fine.


	8. Clandestine - Sirius Black/Rodolphus Lestrange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius only meets with Rodolphus when the rest of the castle is asleep.
> 
> Prompt 147 - [Picture Prompt](https://ic.pics.livejournal.com/digthewriter/66395316/179440/179440_original.jpg) & Marauder's Map & Surreptitious

Sirius glances at the map once more before tucking it into his pocket. His fingers brush against the piece of parchment already in there – slipped into his robes at some point during the day; he’s not sure when. He’s been unfolding it and refolding it ever since he found it, and it’s worn enough now that the edges are fraying and the ink fading already.

The message, though, might as well be carved on the inside of his skull. _You have me. Remember it._ Hardly the most romantic of declarations, but given who it’s from, it’s enough.

He glances around surreptitiously and slips behind the tapestry. He follows the corridor down to the classroom hidden at its end, trailing his fingertips along the ancient stone, and he tries to pretend that his heart isn’t pounding hard enough to hurt. He feels dizzy with it – with the anticipation that’s been building all day. He sinks against the wall when he reaches the end of the corridor, and pulls the map out of his pocket again. The little note comes with it, and he caresses its edges briefly before tucking it away again. 

The little dot labelled _Rodolphus Lestrange_ is where it was before – all alone, pacing the floor of the classroom. There’s just a door between them. Sirius searches the map for other dots: his own, too, is alone; James and Remus and Peter are still all tucked away in their dorm. The whole of the castle is fast asleep. It’s just the two of them left awake.

He closes his eyes; tries to talk himself out of opening the door even as his fingers close on the handle. Rodolphus is betrothed to his cousin, and no amount of sneaking around after curfew is going to change that. But, as much as the words on the note were written by Rodolphus, they’re true to Sirius’ feelings as well.

He turns the handle and pushes the door open, and he winces when the hinges creak. But then he’s face to face with Rodolphus and he can’t bring himself to care about anything other than the spark in his lover’s eyes and the fond tilt of his lips.


	9. The Right - Sirius Black/Unknown Male Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This close to his transformation, his nose is telling him that Sirius has been out of the house and with a man whose scent he doesn’t know; that Sirius is returning smelling of sex and stale liquor.
> 
> Prompt 148 - “Just because you have stolen someone's heart, luckily owned and occupied as a home, doesn't give you the audacity to enforce hurtful policies.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson & Intuition & A pleasant surprise

There are shadows under Sirius’ eyes: deep purple bruises that make his skin seem even paler and his cheeks appear thinner. He’s not eating. He pushes the food that Molly serves him around his plate with the tines of his fork, moving it and spreading it so that it _looks_ like he’s eating it even though he doesn’t ever have more than a couple of mouthfuls. He drinks firewhiskey instead, and he vanishes into hidden rooms between meals. Sometimes, Remus tries to follow him like he did before the war, but he can’t ever find him. The House of Black is protecting its reluctant master.

This is exactly what made it so easy to believe that Sirius was a spy.

His patience wears out and he excuses himself early from dinner the day before the full moon. He lurks in the shadows next to Mrs Black’s curtains and tries to listen to the conversation he just left instead of her malignant whisperings. He hates ambushing people, but his intuition is telling him that something is wrong with his best friend. 

Not _just_ his intuition. This close to his transformation, his nose is telling him that Sirius has been out of the house and with a man whose scent he doesn’t know; that Sirius is returning smelling of sex and stale liquor. That, and the guilt on Sirius’ face when Remus catches him as he tries to leave, tells him that he won’t like the man’s identity.

“I can’t believe you’d be so reckless!” Remus hisses.

Sirius just shakes his head. “He won’t turn me in Remus,” he says. “We’ve been doing this for years. Since school.”

 _That_ , at least, is something of a pleasant surprise, albeit a painful one. That Sirius could have hidden something like this for so long… Remus glances out of the open door at the tall silhouette watching from across the street. He tries again. 

“ _“Just because you have stolen someone's heart, luckily owned and occupied as a home, doesn't give you the audacity to enforce hurtful policies.”_ ” he quotes. “Sirius, this is killing you.”

Sirius shakes his head. “It is,” he says. “But Remus, it _does_ give him the right.”


	10. Merciless - Bellatrix Lestrange/Lily Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella is merciless and Lily is persistent, and they know each other well enough to never let their doubts show unless they want to provide an easy target.
> 
> Prompt 150 - “In a fight, your doubt is a target of enemy's attack.” ― Toba Beta & Dusk & Persistent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains adultery and background James/Lily

Bella’s fingers tangle in her hair, and pull her head back slowly. Lily doesn’t move as the older woman steps up behind her and presses her breasts against her back. She keeps her gaze fixed on the far horizon – on the sun setting over the water and the gathering dusk. She shouldn’t be here. She should be at home, playing the dutiful housewife for a man she doesn’t quite love, but she can’t bring herself to leave.

She closes her eyes when Bella’s long fingernails scrape down the back of her neck. “No marks,” she says, and she knows that Bella won’t listen. She knows that she’ll have to heal herself before returning to James unless she wants to think of further lies.

 _Or, perhaps, the truth,_ she thinks as Bella’s teeth nip at her ear. But the truth is too unbelievable to ever be told. She loves Bella as much as she hates her, and they fuck much in the same way that they fight when they meet on the battlefield. Bella is merciless and Lily is persistent, and they know each other well enough to never let their doubts show unless they want to provide an easy target.

She turns in Bella’s arms, easing her pregnant belly into the space between them. One of Bella’s hands smoothes over her bump, and Lily feels the flutter of movement as her baby kicks inside of her. There’s a wistful tilt to Bella’s smile, and _that_ would certainly be an easy target if Lily chose to pursue it, but she doesn’t. She covers Bella’s hand with her own and leans in for a kiss.

Doubt: she does this with James too, and life would be so much _easier_ if Bella was the one she was planning to raise her child with. She suspects Bella knows that, though she’s never admitted as much out loud. Instead, Lily takes her wistful smiles and the reverent caresses of her belly as a silent acknowledgment of that silly, unspoken dream.

She pulls Bella close and kisses her until the tide comes in and the cold sea washes over their feet. They could drown here if they stayed; they part instead.


	11. Brazen - Trans!Ginny Weasley/Cormac McLaggen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin Weasley is everything Cormac wants, which is why he's not _too_ bothered about everyone hearing them.
> 
> Prompt 150 - Persistent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka, the reason why this collection has an explicit warning.

Cormac braces himself against the sink. He lifts his hips and grinds back, and he catches sight of Gavin Weasley’s smirk in the mirror as slim hands grip his arse and squeeze. He groans. Damn it, he _wants_. Gavin is short and slight with full lips and a flush of copper stubble on his jaw. He’s fucking _perfect_ \- everything Cormac wants: gorgeous, successful, athletic and brazen – and he’s been persistent in telling him right from the start. And now that he’s _got_ him, he’s not going to give up the slightest chance of having him…even if it _is_ in the loos of the Leaky Cauldron.

He watches in the mirror as Gavin leans down. He kisses a path down Cormac’s spine and spreads the cheeks of his arse so that he can kiss lower. Cormac moans loudly at the first swipe of Gavin’s tongue across his hole, and he slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. The pub is busy, and he remembers a locking charm but not a silencing one. He bites down on his hand as Gavin’s tongue begins to work him open. His hips jerk; Gavin’s too good at this. He can’t stop fucking _mewling_.

He barely manages to lift his head to look when Gavin pulls away. His full lips are flushed red and wet, and there’s a smile on his face that Cormac would give anything to kiss away. He doesn’t. He watches instead as Gavin undoes his pants. He catches a glimpse of a black leather strap, stark against the pale skin of Gavin’s hip, and a flash of Gryffindor red silicone.

There’s the faintest murmur of an enlargement charm, and the strap-on nudges against his entrance as Gavin leans over him. “Ready?” Gavin asks, voice soft. 

Cormac nods, not trusting his voice.

Gavin chuckles in his ear and pushes in. He takes it slow to let Cormac adjust before setting a punishing pace, gripping Cormac’s hips to hold him steady as he fucks him hard and deep. Cormac can’t take his eyes off him; can’t stop himself from crying out with every thrust. He doesn’t care if the whole pub hears. Gavin is _his_.


	12. Unthinkable - Rabastan Lestrange/Kingsley Shacklebolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a romance put together from the pages of diaries long after they're both dead.
> 
> Prompt 273 - Diaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All dates in this are written in the UK-style of dd/mm/yy.

It’s a romance put together from the pages of diaries, long after they’re both dead. It’s a history project, meant to provide insight into the mind of one of the greatest Ministers who ever lived; a man who wrote in code and initials and who, they’d thought, remained single through dedication to his career.

_12/2/79 – collected ring from jewellers and started the spell-crafting. Not an antique like Little Raven’s used to, but might pass muster. Snob. Hope he accepts. We disagree on so much, but we can make it work._

Not single. Engaged? The ink is smudged and blurred from fingers tracing over the page. Minister Shacklebolt hadn’t bothered with any preservation charms of his own, but there are skilled restorers on their team who confirm that, yes, the proposal made on Valentine’s Day that year was accepted. 

Little Raven’s identity, though, is a mystery. Pureblood, probably. LR. L. R. There aren’t many wizarding names beginning with R, and as far as they can tell, none of the dates match. The wedding never took place, either. Minister Shacklebolt was a bachelor until his death some fifty years later.

It’s just as well, they think when they find the entry, that Rita Skeeter is dead too. Her muck-raking still looms large over the second war. They will not repeat it.

_6/11/80 – Little Raven arrested. They made him roll up his sleeve in interrogation. I always hated that tattoo, never more than now._

Tattoo on the arm. Arrest date. L. R. Or R. L? The only arrest records for that date are for the Lestranges, and their family crest is a raven. It would make sense…and only one of them was single.

The pages of Minister Shacklebolt’s diary are tucked away. Restoration spells are removed and all translations of the cypher are destroyed. A hero’s reputation is spared, and the records of a long-dead Death Eater, whose pale green eyes glare defiantly out of his mugshot even now, is returned to storage.

Rabastan Lestrange’s personal effects were destroyed long ago, but if they’d still existed then they too would have been disposed of. 

The secret is kept. Such a hero ever knowingly loving a Death Eater is…unthinkable.


	13. Trapped - Gellert Grindelwald/Newt Scamander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being the focus of Grindelwald’s attention is very much like being under the gaze of one of his more predatory beasts – although Newt can say with some degree of certainty that playing ‘catch the lumos charm’ with a Nundu feels infinitely safer than his current position.
> 
> Prompt 277 - Insolence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert appropriate dub-con warning here*

“Oh, such insolence.” 

Newt peers up at mismatched eyes before letting his gaze skitter away once more. Long fingers curl around his jaw, forcing his chin up – his habitual avoidance of eye contact has become a rebellion rather than anything else. He wants to pull away, but trapped between an alley wall and a Dark Lord, he has nowhere to go even if he could force his limbs to move. Being the focus of Grindelwald’s attention is very much like being under the gaze of one of his more predatory beasts – although Newt can say with some degree of certainty that playing ‘catch the lumos charm’ with a Nundu feels infinitely safer than his current position.

Grindelwald’s breath is warm and sweet. He smells faintly of honey, and it probably would have been comforting on anyone else. As it is, Newt can feel the ebb and flow of his magic under his skin; a steady pulse of dark and cold. If he closed his eyes and pretended hard enough, he might be able to imagine that he’s in Tibet again, feeling the biting chill of wind on his face and neck, but he knows that he won’t do it. He can’t. Gellert Grindelwald is impossible to ignore even if he very much wants to.

“Look at me, darling,” Grindelwald murmurs. His thumb strokes an uneven pattern over Newt’s skin. Newt startles – his gaze snaps to that handsome face once more when he realises that Grindelwald is tracing his _freckles_. A smile twitches at the corner of Grindelwald’s mouth.

“There,” he says. “Better.”

It takes far more effort than it should to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and ask what the Dark Lord wants with him. He’s proud that he manages to only stutter a little; that, now that he’s made eye contact, he manages to keep it. 

At least, until Grindelwald leans too close and honey-sweet lips press to the corner of Newt’s mouth. 

“You, darling,” Grindelwald whispers against his skin. “I want you.” The hand wrapped around Newt’s wrist flexes, and the one at his jaw moves lower to caress his throat. He swallows. 

Merlin, but he wants Grindelwald too.


	14. Summer Love - Rabastan Lestrange/Kingsley Shacklebolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday is Rabastan's idea
> 
> Prompt 300 - Fundamental & Revelry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will prise this pairing from my cold, dead hands.

Rabastan flashes a wild grin over his shoulder as he leads Kingsley deeper into the crowd. Around them, Paris is alive with revelry – the French won the Quidditch World Cup, and wizards and witches have spilled onto the streets to celebrate. He keeps a tight grip on his lover’s fingers as he follows him: Rabastan knows Paris like the back of his hand, and he might be an utter bastard half the time, but Kingsley trusts him not to get them lost. He’s been trusting him this entire holiday so far, and Rabastan hasn’t let him wrong yet.

The holiday had been Rabastan’s idea. A break together before their final year at school, before NEWTs took over their entire lives. He’d suggested Paris for the romance and because of the house his family kept there – inherited from the main branch of the family after the war with Grindelwald, Rabastan had said with a grimace. It’s been the best summer of Kingsley’s life: Quidditch, incredible food, and a truly excessive amount of sex. He’s in _love_ , utterly addicted to the way Rabastan moves and smiles, and the way his kisses bring with them the faintest hint of regret.

Their politics are so fundamentally different that their relationship shouldn’t be working at all. But it is. By some miracle, it actually _is_ , and Kingsley never wants to let go.

He follows Rabastan through the crush of people, down winding streets and down, down into the dark of the tunnels the Muggles are building for their new métro. The sound of the street parties echoes here, eerie. Rabastan drags him close in a cool alcove, presses him up against a wall. Kingsley can’t see him; can only feel the heat of his breath across his lips as Rabastan leans closer and the weight of his body pressing up against him. His heart stutters as a whisper ghosts over his jaw, and he pulls him closer, tilting his head to catch Rabastan in a kiss.

It’s been the best summer of his life. He wants so desperately for it to last forever, but there’s more than just NEWTs looming over them, and he doesn’t know if love is enough.


	15. The Battle and the War - Gellert Grindelwald/Newt Scamander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a dangerous game, to toy with the future, especially when he’s so close to achieving his goals.
> 
> Prompt 301 - Wild and Giving Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features past!Gellert/Albus

There should be nothing appealing about him, this magizoologist; he’s too wild, too scattered. He is chaos bundled into a shabby blue coat; disruptiveness woven through his magic, his very nature. His future is a tangled snarl of hopes and dreams and tragic accidents; something unpredictable that slips through Gellert’s fingers like smoke. But, despite this, Albus chose his agent well. He knows that Gellert has a fondness for red hair and freckles and plummy English accents. He knows that Gellert values perseverance and loyalty - both of which Newton has in spades. 

To his credit, Newton doesn’t seem to realise exactly what kind of sacrifice he’s been offered up as. He’s not _trying_ to intrigue Gellert as much as he does; in fact, he seems oblivious to Gellert’s growing affections. All the same, he finds himself looking forward to their next encounters. Worse, he _enables_ them. He steals fragments of them from his visions and hoards them closely, pulls strings and twists truths until they come to pass. It’s a dangerous game, to toy with the future, especially when he’s so close to achieving his goals, but he can’t help but do it – can’t help but force encounter after encounter just to see Newt Scamander and his pretty freckles and his wry, lop-sided smile. 

He’s won one or two of those smiles for himself, recently. Kindness to magical beasts is Scamander’s most obvious weakness, and one that Gellert is more than willing to manipulate. It’s easy enough: a dead poacher here, a tip-off there, and he’s starting to look like more than the Dark Lord the media paints him as. So little effort for such a desirable result – Gellert would be a fool to pass up the chance to win him to his side, make him doubt his connection to Albus, make him _his_.

Gellert knows _exactly_ what Albus was doing, choosing Newt Scamander to send up against him again and again. He _knows_ , and yet it’s a battle he finds himself eager to fight. His dear Newt is beginning to give in. He’s giving up. Soon, he won’t be able to keep resisting, and when he does, his future will be drastically changed.


	16. Kissing Cousins - Rodolphus Lestrange/Sirius Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius had tried to resist seeing Rodolphus again. After all, they're cousins now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Challenge 322 - relatives by marriage
> 
> Warnings for this chapter include underage (Sirius is approx. 15), adultery and a hand job

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Sirius mutters. 

“Why not, darling?”

“We’re cousins now.”

Rodolphus snorts softly against his throat before turning his head and sinking his teeth into Sirius’ collarbone. Sirius inhales, reaching up to twist his fingers into Rodolphus’ hair - not to pull him away, but tug him closer. Rodolphus’ hand slides down his side, hitched his leg up to wrap around his waist. 

“Only by marriage,” Rodolphus replies, words muffled by Sirius’ skin. Rodolphus’ tongue flicks out to lap at the marks his bite left behind. 

Bella is downstairs somewhere, cooing over the new Dark Lord with Sirius’ mother. He doesn’t know what she’d think to see him entangled with her husband like this - certainly, they’ve never acted like a living couple; not even marginally affectionate, really - but he knows his mother would kill him. Rodolphus knows it too: he put privacy wards around them as soon as he came into the library. 

“Sh-should have married me instead, then,” Sirius grumbles, stuttering as Rodolphus’ hips rock into his own. 

“Wasn’t up to me, love.” Rodolphus’ breath is coming harder; he rocks his hips again, and Sirius gives in. He lets his head fall back, fingers scrabbling at Rodolphus’ scalp and the fastenings of his robes. When Rodolphus lifts his head, he kisses him hot and wet and sloppy, whining low in his throat as Rodolphus’ clever hands push his robes up around his waist and slide into his underwear. He gasps into their kiss as fingers wrap around his cock, stroking slowly, careful of the friction. 

Sirius wants more. He’s always had problems with impulse control, which is partly why he’s getting pressed up against the library table by his cousin’s husband. And even though he’s tried to push Rodolphus away in the weeks since his wedding to Bella - hasn’t answered his owls, had refused to attend the ceremony - he’s still here, still giving in. 

And he wants _more_. 

“Want you to fuck me,” he mumbles against Rodolphus’ lips, punctuating his words with another kiss. “Hard, ‘Dolphus, please.”

Rodolphus grins wickedly, squeezing Sirius’ erection. “But we’re cousins now,” he replies. 

It’s Sirius’ turn to bite _him_. “Fucking prick.”


	17. Make Out - Sirius Black/Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry sneaks down to the kitchen for a midnight rendezvous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Prompt 342 - kitchen
> 
> Underage warning: Harry is 15 (set durng OotP)

The kitchen is silent, but not empty. Sirius sits at the table, a bottle of Firewhiskey in front of him. It’s barely been touched, and Harry breathes a soft sigh of relief. Sirius drinks too much, and as much as Harry can’t really blame him, it does make him uncomfortable. Sirius must have heard him. He looks up, eyes glinting, and Harry slips into the room. The stone floor is cold under his feet, driving away any thought that he might be asleep; dreaming or sleepwalking. He removes his father’s cloak and drapes it over one of the chairs, and he steals the bottle of Firewhiskey, setting it aside as he takes its place in front of his godfather.

His stomach twists. He knows he wasn’t imagining it: the looks at dinner, the hand on his lower back, the way Sirius breathes in the scent of his hair every time they hug, and the way he brushes his lips against Harry’s ear. He _knows_. But that doesn’t stop his heart from hammering against his ribs even as he reaches out.

He hasn’t kissed anyone before. He thinks Sirius can probably tell. But his godfather comes willingly into his arms, slides his hands up over Harry’s thighs and sighs his name between them like a prayer. Harry whines softly as Sirius’ tongue presses into his mouth. He reaches up to tangle his fingers in Sirius’ hair, tugging at the soft curls to try and pull him deeper. Sirius tastes of peat-smoke. He tastes of magic and addiction and impossible _rightness_. 

Long fingers trace the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, cool against his skin. Sirius rubs circles over the jut of his hip, the soft skin of his belly; he scratches lightly at the dimples at the base of his spine, and he laughs into their kiss when Harry gasps in response. It’s a low, wicked noise that goes straight to Harry’s cock. By the time Sirius guides him off the table and onto his lap, he’s so hard it hurts. There’s a damp patch on the front of his pyjamas, and he groans loudly at the feeling of Sirius’ erection beneath him.

“Upstairs?” Sirius asks.

“Yes.”


End file.
